by Rita Klundt

A favorite nursing instructor discussed the term, “imposter syndrome,” in one of her lectures. I wrote the term in my notebook, added a dash and the time frame of “about one year.” The instructor told us it was a fairly new term, also known as “imposter phenomenon.” She warned that we had already been exposed and should be aware that imposter syndrome could happen to us.

I didn’t tell anyone or seek help when, about nine months into my first nursing job, I noted the symptoms. I expected that my instructor had been correct, and the syndrome, with its symptoms would last only a few more months.

I felt like a fraud. That’s what imposter syndrome is. It’s a feeling, not a reality, but it’s a feeling to be reckoned with.

I had done my homework, passed exams without cheating, and graduated from an accredited and respected university. I had passed the state board exam. My name was spelled correctly on a piece of paper with the official state seal. It identified me as a “Registered Professional Nurse.” Still, I felt like a fraud—a phony who didn’t deserve a nurse’s salary or the trust of my coworkers and patients. I had imposter syndrome.

When others congratulated me on my accomplishments, I doubted their sincerity. If someone thanked me for solving a problem or giving extra effort, I had difficulty accepting their praise. The fear of being exposed as a “phony” was a frequent distraction. I thought, “Someone better than me should have this job. There must have been some sort of mix-up or crack that I slipped through.”

The phrase “imposter syndrome” was coined in a 1978 article written by Dr. Pauline R. Clance and Suzanne A. Imes. It’s not a physiological or psychological illness, or even a distinct personality disorder, but it has all the markings of a syndrome. It happens when high-achieving individuals are unable to internalize their accomplishments and they “feel” like an imposter.

My nursing instructor admitted to having had a “case” of it herself. She told us that it was common among professionals where “excellence must be the standard, not the exception.” Nursing is one of those professions. She encouraged our class, although it wasn’t required reading, to review the article by Clance and Imes. I’m glad I did.

When I found myself anxious, lacking confidence, depressed, and frustrated with maintaining my new professional image as a registered nurse and a single mother of three young children, I had a clue as to my problem. My defenses were constantly deployed because of my hypersensitivity to criticism. I couldn’t keep up the pretense. Something or someone had to give.

Sometimes it was me and my expectations. Too often, it was my friends and family.

Exactly how long I (we) suffered with imposter syndrome, I can’t say. For the sake of my former nursing instructor, and to preserve a bit of my own dignity, let’s assume she was correct in her estimate, and my flare-up of imposter syndrome lasted about one year. I’m no longer that novice nurse, and it’s been nearly thirty years since I’ve thought about that term “imposter syndrome.”

But lately, I’m wondering if I haven’t had another flare-up?

This time, it’s not in my role as a nurse that I feel like an imposter, fearing exposure, but in my role as a Christian. I’m experiencing that same feeling I had as a fresh college graduate. I know I am a Christian and have been since I was six years old. That isn’t what’s been bothering me. It’s more like “Why am I so weak? Why do I struggle with the basic Christian disciplines after all these years?” This time, it’s more than a thought or a feeling. It is reality. I know I’m not that smart, or devoted or spiritual, and that God has gifted me beyond my own capabilities.

“If I slip and mess up, everyone will see my failures.” “What if God suddenly decides His time and effort with me is a waste?” “What if He takes back His blessings?”

Imposter syndrome has been affecting my behavior. Feelings of inadequacy distract me. They stymy my decision making. Imposter syndrome wastes my time. Hours available for accomplishing a task or meeting a goal are squandered on internal self-talk, speculation and worry that my plans are flawed. I’ve been re-thinking almost everything!

I was talking with a friend, who happens to be a popular home-grown counselor, when the term from my nursing school days entered my mind. She thought imposter syndrome interesting, and recalled a time in her life when she might have experienced it. Then, she labeled her problem as perfectionism. She suggested that perhaps I had a “touch” of perfectionism as well. She said, “You’re too hard on yourself.”

I argued, and compared myself to mutual friends whose perfectionism manifests itself in physical ways, like meticulous and obsessive organization and neatness. She reminded me that perfectionism is doggedly remaining loyal to an unachievable standard. Any unachievable standard—physical, emotional, intellectual, or spiritual. She gets me.

My friend also reminded me of a recent betrayal and rejection, and wondered if that’s when the symptoms of imposter syndrome returned. That kind of insight is what makes her such a popular home-grown counselor. It’s been well over a year, and I am still hurting over the loss of a relationship. I’ve been misrepresented and accused with seemingly no opportunity to defend myself.

My anger over the injustice has settled, but the unanswered questions leave me choking in a dust cloud of doubt. What did I do to deserve this? Why me? Even if I had done what I was accused of, this punishment far outweighs the crime, doesn’t it? How long will this have a hold on me, and can I trust myself to get close to anyone new?

Since that conversation with my friend, God is helping me to resolve that I don’t need to have every answer. Some of my questions have actually been fueling the greatest imposter of all time. He has a name that I’d rather not mention. He gets into my thoughts, wiggles his way into my psyche, and then watches with satisfaction as my behavior begins to carry out his malicious agenda. I know better than to guard his lies and keep his secrets, but I do. He pretends to have my best interest, to be covering my back side, and to have the answers, but he is bogus. He is the fraud. Not me.

“So, now that you know I’m a perfectionist with imposter syndrome, can we still be friends?” I asked my friend.

She gave me a big hug, and said, “Of course we can.” We made plans to do lunch.

Is my imposter syndrome in remission because of one conversation with a friend? Not quite. But my feelings of inadequacy are no longer secret. Imposter syndrome no longer has power over me. There’s no need to fear being exposed as imperfect, because I’ve already confessed. My friend was so kind in the way she reminded me that I’m not alone in dealing with imposter syndrome. None of us is worthy, but we all seek affirmation as good and somehow deserving.

Since that conversation, verses of scripture remind me that:
• Christ gave his life for mine, and it’s no longer me who lives, but because of my faith in Him, it’s Christ who lives in me. (Galatians 2:19:20)
• The term “Christian” was coined in the town of Antioch. (Acts 11:26) The term means to be an imitator of Christ.
• God’s grace is sufficient. His strength it made perfect in my weakness. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

I’m only a fraud or a phony when I try to impress others with something I don’t possess. My confidence isn’t a crock, it’s in Christ who lives in me. If my courage seems to be an imitation of Christ, I thank you for the compliment. And my strength…I have none. I’ll take God’s grace any day!

The conversation with my friend also brought to my memory (because she asked) how I overcame my first flare-up of imposter syndrome. It took some time. I spent hours reading and meditating over what God had for me in His Word. I prayed—a lot. I decided to risk being the woman God created me to be whether that was at home, on the job, at church, or hanging out with friends. That meant asking questions without fear of appearing ignorant. Learning the difference between what I know and what I think I know became crucial. I began to hear the intensions behind a person’s words as much as the legalistic meaning.

Most importantly, I wasn’t “so hard on myself” when God revealed a sin in my life. I repented and moved on. For me, and I suppose others with imposter syndrome, pride was the sin I confessed most often.

I gained some insight from the article by Clance and Imes, especially as to why I would see myself as an imposter. They point out two lies (although they don’t call them lies) that little girls hear either audibly or through overriding family dynamics.

One little girl hears that she is the “social” one. And while her ability or intellect are lacking, her personality or people skills will bring her success. That doesn’t seem so detrimental, except someone with superior academic skills (usually a sibling) is held in high esteem by the family, and noticeably a contrast to her. The girl can study and achieve enough to receive accolades from teachers, but it doesn’t seem to impress her family or advance her status. She keeps working for validation of her intelligence. It’s never enough. Turning to charm and social skills for a fix of approval becomes easy, and she feels better for a time. Attention for intellectual accomplishments is a secret desire, but she has learned to trust her social prowess for instant gratification. The seed of imposter syndrome has been planted.

The other girl is “told” she is perfect. Her family places her on that proverbial pedestal. They (usually a parent in this case, and not a sibling) tell her she can achieve whatever she wants. She hears them share examples of her accomplishments with others. She feels the hint of exaggeration and undeserved accolade, but risks embarrassment if she disputes the “files” of proof being presented. Pleasing her family begins to take more effort, and their praise adds pressure. To onlookers, her success seems effortless, and she fights to keep up appearances. She doesn’t trust parental approval to survive one of her mistakes. Others are blamed for her failures, and when no one investigates, she feels relief rather than guilt. Little failures are buried beneath new achievements, but not forgotten. Bigger failures lead to both mental and physical exhaustion, but quitting isn’t an option for her. What was intended as encouragement just gave root to imposter syndrome.

Clance and Imes made an omission in their article. I think it was probably a purposeful omission. They undoubtedly discussed it before the work was submitted for publication. What about the little girl who internalized both lies? Is that even possible? Oh well…that’s a question for another day.

Right now, the sun is shining. It’s beginning to look like spring, and I’ve been sitting in front of a computer all day. I’m not feeling the need to prove myself as a writer or impress anyone with more words, so I think I’ll go open the front door, take about three deep breaths, and see what happens next.

 

In case you haven’t archived old copies of Psychotherapy, Research and Practice (Volume 15. #3. Fall 1978), you can find the Clance and Imes article on the internet. It’s titled: The Imposter Phenomenon in High Achieving Women: Dynamics and Therapeutic Intervention.